Author/pseudonym: Mistress Marilyn
Email address: camelotslash@qwest.net
Rating: NC-17, a little sex and violence
Pairing: John Munch/Brian Cassidy
Date: January 2, 2001
Archive: Sure
Series: Nope!
Category: If I'm writing it, it must be Slash!
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, but I'm
exercising my right to fantasize about them for no
remuneration whatsover.
Summary: A bored Munch takes time out to indulge in a little
fantasy about his young partner (not Fin!)
Warnings: A little bit of S&M

It took several minutes for John Munch to realize he had
been daydreaming about his former partner, Brian Cassidy.
The seminar on sexual deviancy and its relation to criminal
behavior had reached a lull, and even Munch could no longer
be fascinated by the discussion of the effect of
testosterone levels on sexual aggression or how medical
approaches could alleviate the recidivism of paraphiliacs.

Instead, he found himself remembering the time young Cassidy
had confused the sexual term "frottage" with the French word
for cheese during testimony in open court. It was a fond
memory, and Munch realized his mental indulgence was not
just internal - he was actually sporting a small smile,
hardly congruous with a discussion on identifying the three
categories of child sexual abusers.

He controlled his outward demeanor while allowing his flight
of fancy to continue. He probably knew more than the droning
presenter did about the subject, anyway, so he could afford
to tune out the lecture.

Brian Cassidy. The enthusiastic, energetic, na´ve and
innocent, yet mischievous and sometimes cheeky Brian
Cassidy. Munch pictured the young man in his mind,
remembering the many occasions he had scolded, lectured,
educated or elucidated his young partner. He clearly saw
Brian's boyish smile and bright eyes, as well as his tall
lean frame and sometimes outrageous choice of suits.

As he continued the pattern of thought, Munch decided to
peel away the clothing and reveal the man beneath, a mental
exercise he sometimes allowed himself when faced with even
the most repulsive suspect (not to mention an occasional
lovely waitress).

In Munch's mind, Brian stood before him naked, grinning. His
body was slim, his skin pink and his penis impressive, even
in a flaccid state. He looked welcoming and yet somehow
vulnerable, and Munch could hardly resist capitalizing on
the latter trait. He mentally tied Brian's wrists to the
headboard of a large bed, and the expression on the young
man's face turned to a certain amount of surprise and
expectation. The penis started to rise.

Munch inserted himself into the fantasy. He approached the
bed, shirtless, with a small riding crop in one hand. He
stood over Brian, watching him. "What's up, John?" Brian
asked, unnecessarily. "What are you going to do with that?"

Munch struck him across the chest, nicking a nipple with the
end of the crop. The reddened flesh swelled and hardened and
Brian let out a small gasp.

"Jesus, Munch. Watch it!"

"Are you familiar with the works of the Marquis de Sade?"
Munch asked, knowing the answer before he asked the
question.

"De Sade . . . 'Sadism,' right?"

"Good boy. At least you know where the connection comes
from. Do you know why the phrase 'sadism' was coined after
the Marquis?"

Brian shook his head slowly, watching Munch's hand holding
the whip.

"The Marquis equated sexual pleasure with crimes of
violence, mostly in his written work, less so in his life.
He was more of an author than a libertine, and what he wrote
was considered blasphemy to post-revolutionary France. In
fact, de Sade was a sodomite, which certainly got him into a
good deal of trouble throughout his life. He was probably
hated more for his anti-religious sentiments than for his
sexual compulsions."

Brian Cassidy looked blank, staring from the riding crop to
Munch's face. He was clearly waiting for the man to get to
the point.

"You know what the definition of sodomy is?" Munch asked
impatiently.

"New York law says its oral or anal sex. It doesn't matter
if it's consenting or between the same gender or whatever.
Right?"

Munch ignored the answer. "The Marquis liked to get fucked
in the ass," Munch said simply. "By one of his favorite
servants."

"Oh. Okay." Brian paused for a moment. "So, what's the
point?"

"The point is that some human sexual behavior has included
aggression and a certain amount of pain forever, but until
the late 1700s, nobody really wrote about it. That's where
we get the term 'sadism' - gratification derived from the
infliction of physical or mental pain."

Munch raised the crop, and Brian flinched even before he
struck him, this time on the stomach.

"Yikes! That hurts! I didn't know you were this kinky."

Munch shook his head and sighed. "There's a great deal you
don't know about me, Brian. Yet."

Munch maneuvered the crop around Cassidy's hips and thighs,
avoiding the stubborn erection, stinging enough to leave
small welts, but not breaking the skin. Brian squirmed on
the bed, his arms taut against the restraints.

"Jesus, Munch, that's getting to me."

"If you think that got to you, just wait," Munch commanded,
licking his right forefinger and running it down one of the
puffy spots on Brian's stomach. Brian breathed in sharply
and his penis gave a little jump. Then Munch bent close and
blew on the wet welt.

"Oh, Christ!" Brian cried. "That's unbelievable!"

Munch mentally decided to take pity on the young man before
he reached some sort of premature sexual crisis in the
fantasy or before the lecture ended, whichever came first.
He reached down and stroked Brian's penis, enjoying the
smooth feel and pulsating heat of the taut flesh.

"Are you going to blow me, John?" Brian asked in a breathy
tone.

"Not if you can't describe it any better than that," said
Munch, cupping Brian's tight balls in his hand.

"Okay. Suck me, Munch."

Munch shook his head, his lips pursed. "You have one more
chance to convince me. Think carefully."

Munch squeezed under the tip of Brian's penis and held the
grip long enough to deflate his erection.

"Jesus, John, why'd you do that?"

"Three strikes and you're out, my friend. You have to learn
that sex doesn't come that easy. You have to ask for what
you want and describe what you like. You have to
articulate." Munch drew out the last word, syllable by
syllable.

Brian's look of disappointment touched and surprised Munch,
even though he was in control of the fantasy. He found
himself unable to continue his stern tone, and he reached up
and stroked Brian's cheek.

"I'll show you something else you'll like," he promised,
eliciting the smile he was seeking.

"Okay, John. Do I have to talk?"

"All you have to do is make sounds of pleasure, as many and
as loudly as you like."

Munch climbed on top of the supine Cassidy and lowered his
crotch over Brian's; the fabric of his pants rubbed against
the exposed skin of the young man's lower body.

"Do you know what this is?" Munch asked, maneuvering his
hips up and down on Brian's crotch, feeling the instant
response.

Munch moved quickly against Brian until he was rewarded with
an "Oh, fuck!" and a long shudder from his young partner.
The spray of liquid caught not only the waistband of Munch's
trousers, but also the bare flesh of his upper stomach. If
his own body hadn't been obscuring the ejaculate, no doubt
it would have struck him in the eye! Oh, to be that young
again - for just an hour or so -- Munch thought, impressed.

He lowered himself over Brian and gave the sweet mouth a
long kiss, which he lingered over for several beats. By the
time the moist, warm contact had broken, Munch realized the
people around him were scooting back in their chairs. He
mentally shook himself out of his reverie and consulted his
program.

It was time for 'New Tools for Identifying the Serial
Rapist' in Room B.

Munch stood up slowly and noted that his pants were intact
and unmarked. He was nearly surprised.